Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (31 page)

The forest covered a slope, and the large trees were sparse enough to see into the flatlands beyond. Moonlight glinted off of metal and the lights of campfires drew his eye. Pale silhouettes of tents stretched out into the darkness. Horses whinnied, and the lower chatter of men broke the quiet.

~Hunt,~
the First pleaded, and Kalen jerked his head in a nod.

He was tired of being patient.

~~*~~

Men moved through the night, and Kalen stalked after them, his fingers twitching at his side. He longed for the rough grip of leather in his hand and the weight of a sword testing his muscles. The guards moved in pairs with weapons sheathed at their sides. They skirted the grasses and wove through the trees, muttering among themselves in voices too low for him to catch the words or the language they spoke.

Many of them, like him, had dark hair.

He lay low to the ground and waited, the First’s impatience burning in the back of his head. The presence didn’t demand he move, but at the same time, its lust for action kept his muscles tense. Kalen flexed his hand and the thrill of the motion forced a grin out of him.

If his dam and sisters were in the camp, he’d find out. When he did, he’d deal with their captors, one way or another.

First, he needed a weapon. His mouth twisted into a ruing grin. He should’ve just taken one from his sire. Cursing his haste, he watched for the next set of guards, waited for when they shuffled by, and slithered through the trees toward the camp. He huddled in the shadows and hid among the twisting roots. He counted the minutes and kept a watchful eye on the moon as it marched across the sky towards its zenith.

The hooting call of animals masked his noise, and the First’s triumph at their thwarting of the watches kept the cold of the night at bay. Nearer to the camp, the laughs of men drowned out the sounds of his boots crushing the grass. Piles of sacks and saddles ringed the tents and he sheltered in their shadow. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. It was too small to be an army, too organized to be mere bandits—or, at least, what he understood of bandits. Skirmishers? A scouting force? He let out a breath in a sigh.

It wasn’t a Kelshite army’s force, that much he was certain. There were too many people with dark hair, too many people watchful and looking for signs of trouble. It confirmed all that Garint had said and what he’d feared.

War brewed in Kelsh like a storm poised to break over the lands and sweep them all away in its fury.

~Kill?~

Kalen shook his head. Wiping his sweaty palm against his wet trousers, he glanced deeper into the camp. Figures sat around large fires, leaving a few prowling around the camp. He took a deep breath. The scent of meat tickled his nose and set his stomach to rumbling. Gritting his teeth, he peered around the edge of his hiding place and watched for the guards. He lost track of the minutes before the pair came. The men yawned and laughed among themselves. The chainmail they wore glinted in the moonlight.

Scurrying across to the next pile of supplies, he hid among them and listened. A muffled sound came from around the nearby tents. Keeping low to the ground, he hurried to the closest tent and prayed that the dark of the ground and the mud caking him would hide him from the watchful eyes of those circling the camp.

Instead of tents, a hastily-erected corral fringed the camp. Instead of horses, children were tied to leads, their hands bound and wrapped in sacks. Gags and hoods covered many of their faces. They were piled on top of each other and lay still. The breath left Kalen’s lungs and he couldn’t manage to draw another. Cold shock held him in place. The First’s rage burned, then chilled to such fierce wrath that Kalen trembled with its need to strike out and obtain vengeance.

He curled his fingers into claws and dug furrows into the soft soil. No one stood watch over the children, but the guards paused in their passage when they neared the captives, and their laughter carried on the breeze.

Kalen waited until the guards passed before slipping into the corral and wiggling his way into the group. Their bodies were warm and a few of them squirmed and writhed at his touch. Cursing his missing left arm, he went to work tugging at their hands and setting the largest of the children free. The first boy he freed stared at him with slack-jawed shock, skin pale. The moonlight gleamed on cheeks wet with tears.

“Help free the others,” he whispered. “Watch for the guards and lay still when they come. Understand?”

A nod answered him. Kalen shivered at the feel of eyes on him, and he couldn’t distinguish the stares from the children he hid among from the enemies skulking in the darkness.

~~*~~

The sky lightened with the promise of dawn, and Kalen stared at it. He couldn’t force himself to draw breath at the realization of what the sun’s light meant.

He’d taken too long. He’d been so absorbed by his task that he’d taken too long.

A horn called warning, and Kalen spit out curses. He jerked towards the children that stared at him. “Run!”

When they didn’t move, he snatched at the closest one and shoved him forward. “Curse the ancestors, move it or die!”

One of them screamed, and they scattered in all directions. Men cried out and the camp erupted into action. One of the youngest boys grabbed at Kalen’s leg and tripped him. He hit the ground hard, and the breath rushed out of his lungs. Snatching at the boy’s shirt, he shoved the child to the gap in the fence and snarled a curse. “Run.”

The boy shook his head, locks of blond hair whipping against chubby cheeks. Kalen surged to his feet and shoved the child forward. Men waded into the chaos and snatched for those who tried to escape.

“Stop them!” someone roared out in accented Kelshite. Kalen ducked under the grabbing hands of a scarred-face man. He hesitated long enough to smash the heel of his boots on the man’s toes before diving out of reach. The first light of dawn streamed through the trees and glared in his eyes. He cursed and staggered, trying to blink away the spots. A hand grabbed at his shoulder. Kalen twisted, kicked out with his foot, and whipped his arm out.

Something hard cracked against the back of his head and he crumpled beneath the blow.

Chapter Fourteen

Breton didn’t manage to get his foot free of Gorask’s stirrup before a dark-clad figure plowed into him with so much force that his horse staggered. His gelding let out a whinny.

A hand hammered at his back. Breton hopped on a foot and his boot heel slipped in the mud. Someone caught him under the arms and laughed over his head. Breton yanked his foot free of the stirrup and leaned his head back. Varest grinned down at him. “Hello, Breton!”

“What a coincidence,” he said, scowling at Kalen’s foal. The other Guardian shoved him upright. After soothing Gorask, he turned to face younger man. “Is this who you wanted us to meet, Captain Silvereye?”

“I figured a Guardian would know what to do with a pair of Rifters,” the man said with a low chuckle.

“What we would do with them?” Ceres called out, emerging from between a pair of tents. “Don’t you mean observe as we get scolded by our superior?”

“Your superior?” Silvereye narrowed his eyes and stared at Breton. “You don’t look like a Guardian.”

Breton glanced down at his clothes and grimaced. The mud and dirt caked him so thoroughly that the black of his clothes was more of a mottling of brown and dark gray. “We’ve been on the road for a while.”

“Are you a Guardian, then?”

“What else would I be? Yes, I am a Guardian, as is Maiten,” Breton said.

“The Rift has been busy, I can see. I do not know whether I am pleased or annoyed that the Rift King is so swift to act.”

Breton glanced at Ceres, who shook his head in warning. “That’s his way. We were separated from our companion, and it is not our way to abandon our own.”

“I see. So you split up to search, I take it?”

Varest was the first to nod.

~Be careful, Rift folk,~
Dorit said.

~They’ve been careful,~
a second masculine voice said, and the tones were deeper than Dorit’s. A Yadesh stallion several hands taller than Dorit trotted forward, head bobbing in equine enthusiasm.
~Greetings to you, brother. It seems we have both fallen in with strange folk.~

~Satrin?~

Breton winced at the strength of Dorit’s reply. The voices of both Yadesh withdrew from his thoughts and he heaved a sigh of relief. The Yadesh wandered off through the camp together and disappeared from sight.

“I fear my camp is overrun with the creatures,” Captain Silvereye said with a low sigh. “That one appeared several hours ago. I admit, I hadn’t expected to see another so soon, nor with Rifters.”

“His Knight perished, I’m afraid,” Breton replied. “It was at the same time we found Verishi.”

“I shall have to extend my condolences to the beast, then. We’ve been warned by our hire to avoid harm to any of them, else we’d stir the wrath of the Kelshites.”

“The Danarites were not so considerate.”

“I’m unsurprised. In the interest of being open, I will warn you that there is another mercenary company, and their hire is not the type of folks you want to involve yourself with, Rifters.”

“Danarite,” Ceres said.

“Danarite
slavers
,” Varest added. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“That can wait,” Captain Silvereye said. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re willing to listen. You seem to have a healthy dislike of the Danarites, and I have a reason to work against what is going on in this region. Why don’t we work together?”

“What did you have in mind?” Breton asked, focusing his full attention on the Mithrian. “I can’t say we’ll do anything, especially if it goes against our stance of neutrality, but I’m willing to listen.”

“Do you speak for all of you, then?”

“Well, he
is
the senior Guardian and adviser to the Rift King,” Ceres said.

Captain Silvereye’s brow arched toward his hairline. “Is that so?”

Breton glared at Ceres then shrugged. “I’ve the ear of the Rift King when he chooses to listen.”

“Here is my proposal. The Danarites have been working with a group called the Wolf Blades. They’re a money-driven company out of Mithrias. I mixed part of my group in with them for information. Now that I have the information, I need to act. That said, they’re familiar with a few too many faces from my company, so I don’t dare risk sending them to do the work. However, they haven’t seen you four, and I think four is an ideal number for the job I need done.”

“Go on.”

The captain drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “There is a city near here. Morinvale isn’t that much larger than a town, but large enough that it’s important to the region. It’ll fall to the Wolf Blades when they decide to make their move. I don’t know when that’ll happen. That said, I’ve heard rumors of strange things happening in the city. The gates have been closed for a week, and my scouts have told me that they haven’t seen anyone moving around for several days.”

“With all due respect, Captain Silvereye, we’re horsemen. If you want stealth, you won’t find it with us.”

“Except Father.”

“Your Father is the exception,” Breton admitted, scowling at Ceres. Kalen’s son grinned at him in reply. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the Mithrian. “I don’t know what we could do to help you, Silvereye.”

“That’s what Ceres and Varest said as well. I won’t say I’m not disappointed. Perhaps, then, I could pique your attention in regards of a different matter. I have a few ladies in my care. A part of my hire. You Guardians are accustomed to guarding your king, are you not? My men and women are not guards, and are not interested in that sort of thing. Assist me for a week while I put some plans into motion, and I will have my scouts on the lookout for the one you seek. Would this be a suitable exchange?”

Breton narrowed his eyes. “Are they in your care because they want to be?”

“No,” the captain admitted with a grin. “But they
are
in my care because if they weren’t, they’d be likely targets of the Danarite slavers. This is all I’m willing to tell you: If I can put a stop to the Danarites slave efforts, I will. It’s a secondary goal, but one that I take seriously as a part of my hire. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll get to take some heads as trophies by the time we’re done with this.”

Breton grunted. “Let me talk to the others and we’ll see. I promise no more than that.”

“Ceres and Varest can take you to their tent and you can discuss there,” the captain replied before nodding to them each in turn and walking away. “I’ll find you at an hour’s end.”

~~*~~

Breton arched a brow at the nest of blankets that took up most of the four-person tent before staring at Ceres and Varest. Verishi dove past him into the pile. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her back while she squirmed and giggled. He peeled her muddied sandals off her feet before letting her go. She disappeared under the blankets until all that remained was a few strands of blond hair and a lump. “What is going on?”

“We found Father, but his useless excuse of a sire separated us,” Ceres growled. “Those ladies he wants us to watch? They’re his dam and sisters. I saw them at one of the villas before we got separated. I haven’t been able to learn much, but we’ve been laying low and playing stupid. Satrin has been listening for us.”

~It has been a pleasure to aid you, Guardians,~
the deeper-voiced Yadesh replied.
~Thank you for bringing Dorit home. I will make sure your efforts aren’t forgotten.~

Both Yadesh poked their heads in through the tent flap. Breton kicked off his boots and dropped down on the blankets beside Verishi with a groan. “It was a pleasure to accompany Dorit.”

“So? What have you learned?”

“So far as mercenaries go, Silvereye isn’t too bad. He’s definitely hiding something, especially when it comes to the Delrose family, but Satrin is convinced that he has no ill-will towards them. That’s why we’ve been sticking around. Satrin—”

~I’ll explain,~
the Yadesh interrupted. Ceres snapped his teeth together and fell silent.
~Your Rift King went out with Lord Delrose and his brothers when the youngest of the children said he found a horse.~